


The Quartermaster's Secret

by idunnowatimdoing



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, M/M, Omega Verse, Will be Porn with Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-26 12:57:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idunnowatimdoing/pseuds/idunnowatimdoing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Omega!verse<br/>Quin always thought he was a Beta. Then on the day that should have been the best day of his life, the day he finally cracked the MI6 database, his first heat hit.<br/>Knowing the dangers an unmated Omega has to face, Quin pretends to be a Beta. Other than M and (possibly) Tanner, no one suspects Quin's secret. Until one James Bond comes back from the dead, and takes a sudden curiosity in the new Quartermaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Don't hate me, this is my first ever Omega!verse fic.

It had been a horrible morning. Like, not even exaggerating, it had been a horrible morning. Quin had stayed up almost all night trying to crack the last firewall, but he’d been trying to do it in a way that the damn MI6 database didn’t catch a trace of his involvement. That had meant he had to amp up his own firewalls to make sure they weren’t using the connection to hack his computer as he hacked theirs. As an extra precaution, he was bouncing his signal, connecting it to a tower away from his apartment and linking it to someone else’s server so that if they tried to track him, it would take them to someone else’s IP Address. Sure, it wasn’t fool-proof, and it had taken precious time that they could have used to detect him, but now that he had it up, it could well buy him extra time should he need it.

Now one could ask just why he was trying to crack into MI6’s database, why he was consciously provoking one of, if not, the most deadly faction of the British government. And, well, Quin would just shrug. ‘Because I can.’ And, well, he’d turn away as if completely bored out of his mind, and exasperated at being asked what to anyone else sounds like a reasonable question. But of course, there’s something more to Quin’s answer. True, his motivation did revolve a great deal around the fact that he could do it, and he was doing it to prove he could. However, there was also the little incentive that he wouldn’t voice to anyone else. Because he wanted them to notice. Quin was so sick and tired of his skill, his gift, being ignored. He could damn well take out a good portion of the world, and no one even knew. He could bankrupt businesses, take down financial empires. And he was tired of people looking at him and just seeing a scrawny little thing that probably spent all his time playing World of Warcraft or something just as ridiculous. Well… he did play WoW when he had time, but that’s beside the point. The point was that Q wanted respect, and he was going to take it by breaking into the most heavily guarded database he could find.

He was in the middle of typing in some more code, entering another complex command that he hoped would be the final nudge to get his foot in the door. Once he had that, he wouldn’t need much more time to completely take down their system. He just needed to enter the last sequence of code, and he bit his lip, knowing this was the moment of truth. Soon as he did this, he’d only have ten, twenty minutes to do what he had to, otherwise they’d catch on and he’d fail. He worried his lip, eyes flashing from side to side as he reread his code one last time, looking for a weak link that could take the entire operation down. With a shaky breath, he hit the enter key, and watched his screen erupt into a sudden on slaughter of commands as his program battled against the firewall. He watched the battle wage on and on, the sequences of code flying up his screen faster than he could read, and he couldn’t breathe, because what if this didn’t work?

It was a tense moment of silence as he sat there in dread, certain that he’d made a mistake somewhere and everything was going to come toppling down and he would have to run as fast as his arse could carry him because they’d descend on this place like the hounds of hell.

And then it all stopped. His screen went blank a moment, blacking out completely, and Q felt his heart stop. It was over. He’d failed. He was just about to slam his head against the desk when he saw white appear on the screen, a command prompt coming up. He looked at it, hardly able to believe it.

He was in. Holy fuck, he was in.

He let out a cry of triumph, quelling the urge to do a victory dance because he still had work to do. It would be substantially harder for them to trace him like this, but it was still possible, and he knew already that the failsafe programs were rushing to push him out, to locate him so that if they couldn’t get him out digitally, they could send someone to take him out manually.

His fingers flew over the keyboard, typing rapidly, frantically. Nine minutes. He had nine minutes and then he had to get the fuck out of there or risk having someone crash through his window and take him out. And yes, he’d probably been watching way too many action movies, because if they wanted him dead they’d probably use a sniper. Cleaner. Less chance of witnesses that way.

Eight minutes.

He could feel sweat run down his brow as he kept typing, eyes searching over the screen frantically for the kill switch, the one that could take their programs down and completely lay out access to him.

Seven minutes.

Oh fuck, they were fighting back. And he knew they would have, but this was some serious shit, and they were much better than any opponent he’d had before. But not as good as him.

Six minutes.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, he needed to find something fast. His fingers were flying, and he was pretty sure he’d have to replace the keyboard after this, he was pounding the buttons that hard.

Five minutes.

He found something, dwelving further in, trying to see if this was his chance.

Four minutes.

Oh fuck yes, yes, yes. He’d found it. Now he just had to plant his virus and let the program disintegrate. And then MI6 and all its files was his.

Three minutes.

Almost there. Fuck, so close. Just had to seed it a little bit more.

Two minutes.

The virus caught. And then from there it latched on, spreading through their system rapidly. Quin leaned back, letting out a laugh and cracking his knuckles as he imagined the technicians on the other side of the connection, running around frantically as their defenses dropped and everything, everything, was stripped bare for Quin’s eyes to see. It was amazing, this feeling of absolute victory, and he basked in it a moment, picking up his mug and taking a nice, rewarding sip of his Earl Grey tea.

He watched the progress of his program, smirking when finally everything was done and the screen was showing a command prompt. He was in, he was in charge, and he could do whatever he wanted to do.

He leaned forward again, setting his mug down on the table, and lazily typed in his last command. It took a few minutes, mostly because he was taking his time and enjoying this. With a flourish, he hit enter and stood up, not needing to watch to  know what was happening.

He wandered out of the room, walking around his apartment, knowing he should be rushing, but he just couldn’t bring himself to. The victory he’d just had was weighing him down, making him move leisurely. He’d just won. He’d cracked into MI6’s database, and they hadn’t been able to stop him. He’d won.

He grinned, bending down to grab his shirt from the floor, and suddenly a stabbing pain went through him, followed by a shiver. W-what was that? He stood up slowly, suddenly aware of the fact that he felt thirsty, his throat dry. He picked up his tea, taking a sip, and then a gulp, the liquid burning its way down, but it didn’t help the thirst at all. This… what was happening? He felt a shudder run through him, his eyes closing, and a moan slipping from his lips. His eyes snapped open as soon as the sound escaped, his stomach dropping. Oh god no. Please, no. Anything but that.

It was impossible. This couldn’t be happening to him. This could not be happening. He wasn’t...

He was a Beta, he couldn’t be going into heat!

But he was. He knew it as soon as his mind supplied the word, knowing in his core that it was true. He was an Omega, and he was going into his first heat. And he had to move, because he knew that MI6 had traced his signal and he probably only had minutes before something came bursting into his apartment, and he was going into heat. He swallowed, something in his stomach burning fiercely. He had to get out of here. Before the heat took over. Or he had to figure out a way to stop it.

Fuck. He didn’t have suppressants, though. He had thought he was a Beta! He was twenty-seven, damn it. He should have had his first heat eight years ago. But here he was, stumbling through his flat, racing across the hall. He had to get to his neighbor, Jennifer. She would have suppressants. She could help him. He slammed against her door, unable to stop his forward momentum, and then he was pounding against the wood with both his fists desparately, and if he weren’t feeling the warning signs that his body was going to go into heat in a few moments, he would have stopped, because this was just plain rude. One should not just pound ruthlessly on a door to your neighbor’s house. But, as stated, he wasn’t exactly in his right mind.

His fist hit the door once more before he heard the lock move and then the door opened and inside a very startled looking Jennifer, and her roommate Samantha, were staring at him with wide eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but it cut off in a whine as he shuddered helplessly. The scent hit them, the pheromones coursing out of him familiar to the both of them, and their eyes grew wider. Jennifer’s jaw dropped, but Samantha simply whipped a hand out, dragging him forward, shoving him into the room as she stuck a head out, looking up and down the hallway suspiciously, then slammed the door shut, locking no less than six locks. She pressed her back against the door, her eyes closing for a moment as she composed herself, and when she opened her eyes, they were hard and serious, and Quin whined as he watched her Alpha come forward to take charge of the situation. Jenny had managed to get over her shock, and she touched his shoulder gently. “Quin, oh you poor thing,” she mumbled, trying to sooth him.

“Naynay,” Sammy snapped, and Jenny’s head turned to look at her. Sammy was frowning as she closed the distance between them, pushing Jenny away and grabbing Quin’s chin, making him look down the inch or two that separated them. “How long?” Quin gave a small whine, his Omega reacting to her Alpha, but her hand slipped behind his neck, pinching hard and drawing his face closer. “How long!”

He had just enough mental capacity left to know he had to answer her if he had any hope of making it through this. “F-first time,” he panted, trying to make himself focus. He hadn’t thought this would happen so fast. He though he’d have had longer to adjust, to ease into this slower. But it was slamming right into him, and he was losing the ability to think each second. “P-please. H-help. M-men c-coming f-for m-me.”

Sammy’s hand tightened just slightly, her eyes narrowing as she stared up into his eyes, and he bit on his lip to keep from whining. He needed this and more and he needed a cock in him, breeding him, mating him, knotting him. She must have seen what she was looking for, because she let go of his neck, turning around and suddenly Jenny was by his side, grabbing his arm and leading him to the couch. Sammy walked over to the door, pausing right before it, and between her soothing murmurs, Jenny looked at her. “Sammy-“ she started.

Sammy turned her head to look at her, her face grim. “It’s too late to give him suppressants. He’s too far gone. Only thing we can do is wait it out, and keep him here, keep him safe.” She paused, as if waiting for approval, which came in the form of a nod from Jenny. Sammy’s lips quirked up slightly in a smile, a dangerous look coming into her eyes. “I need to go get things from his flat. And get rid of as much of his heat pheromones as I can before they get there. Don’t answer the door for anyone but me.”

Jenny nodded, rolling her eyes as if she’s heard this sort of thing before, which would be concerning if Quin could think straight. Sammy flashes her another grin before opening the door and dashing out. Quin makes a noise, his eyes wide, a hand reaching out, because holy shit this is too dangerous and she should not be going in there when there are more than likely blood MI6 agents about to bust into his apartment and start firing at anyone they find. Jenny makes a hushing noise, smoothing hair from his face and he looks up at her, trying to voice his concern, trying to tell her that Sammy needs to come back now, because he’s not going to be the reason his neighbor dies. But Jenny’s just smiling at him.

“Relax, Quin,” she laughs, genuinely laughs, and Quin thinks there must be something wrong with her, because she should not be laughing right now when they’re all likely about to die or get kidnapped, but she is laughing. “Sammy can handle herself just fine. She knows what she’s doing. Right now we need to worry about you. This is your first heat, right?” She pauses, but doesn’t wait for an answer before she’s talking again. “Alright, so then this is gonna really, really suck, because you’ve probably been suppressing it for years without meaning to and now it’s all just gonna hit you like a hammer to the face.” She stops, grinning widely, laughing again at her joke. And yes, there must be something wrong with her if she’s laughing right now, but right now Quin kind of finds it endearing, because she’s trying to help him after all.

“It’s too late to suppress it now, and I wouldn’t have let Sammy even if it was possible, because it’s been way too long and if you kept holding it back any longer, you would have probably ended up going insane.” And well, that’s a reassuring thought now, isn’t it? Wasn’t she supposed to be trying to calm him down? “So now we’re just going to have to let this thing run its course and I promise Sammy and I will keep you safe from whatever it is that’s trying to hurt you, okay?” She brushed some hair from his forehead, holding his head in her lap as his body spasms, because he can smell something outside the door and it smells delicious and male and Alpha.

Sammy’s voice, raised in a shout, bleeds through the door, and Jenny tenses, her eyes locking on the door, her hands resting protectively over Quin’s shoulders. She moves as if to place herself in front of him, which is a terrible idea because she can’t even weigh any more than him and she looks so small and delicate, but she’s standing in front of him like she could stop whatever comes to get him. Quin forces himself to focus, giving the conversation all his attention, because he needs to make sure Sammy isn’t going to be shot.

“-stupid prat! Who do you think you are? Coming into our building, breaking into my friend’s apartment, and then insisting that I tell you where the bloody hell he is! Even if I knew where his worthless hide was, I most certainly would not tell you, Mr. I’m-so-bloody-hot-that-you-should-most-definitely-peel-your-clothes-off-and-throw-yourself-at-me-so-I-can-laugh-and-fuck-you-into-oblivion-before-leaving-you-in-the-middle-of-the-night-like-a-bloody-coward!” There was a momentary pause, and then something slammed against the wall, and a muffled sound of surprise/pleasure rang through the door. Sammy moaned, and Jenny’s eyes got huge, but then there was the sound of a slap, and Sammy’s voice started shouting again. “Well fuck you! Why the hell are you such a fucking good kisser! How are you real you God damn too bloody perfect to exist man! I swear to- GAH!” The front door opened and Sammy threw herself in dramatically, turning around to flip a rather rude gesture at some man pressed against the wall next to the door out of their sight. She slammed the door shut before the man could even react, locking the door rapidly and then pressing her back against the door, eyes closed just like before. She took a deep, calming breath, and then her eyes opened and she was grinning like a bloody lunatic. She raised her arm and, oh, that was his backpack, and it was full of all his stuff, including his laptop, cell phone, and tablet.

“If you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself,” Sammy grinned, dangling the bag, her grin spreading. Jenny giggled, running over to hug her friend and Sammy laughed. “Oh my god, Naynay you should have seen this guy. I mean seriously, he was like sex on legs, and I just slammed him against a wall and kissed him. And I felt the gun on his thigh, but it was so sexy and kinda positioned where his dick could be and oh my god I got a picture for you!” She pulled her phone out of her pocket, and the two of them let out high pitched squeals, bouncing up and down and it was at that point that Quin couldn’t hold on anymore, and the heat completely took over.

He wasn’t aware of anything besides the burning, all-consuming heat that made his vision fade in and out, that made everything disappear in a haze of lust and need and moans. He had brief moments that he could remember: sounds of need, pleads for a cock in him, cries for someone to mount him and mate him and breed him until he was sure to have a pup.

Five days later, he woke up to the sight of a very concerned looking Jenny hiding behind a wary looking Sammy’s shoulder. He coughed, his throat raw and dry, and his body ached all over. Jenny disappeared and reappeared with a glass of water. Sammy moved to help prop Quin up as Jenny tipped a glass to his lips, helping him drink water. He gulped it down greedily, lapping at it like he was dying. Jenny tilted the glass as he drank, and then it was all gone, and he wanted more, but at least the thirst wasn’t so bad he felt he was going to die.

“You must be starving,” Jenny tutted, pulling the glass away, and Sammy lay him back down, Quin groaning as his body protested. “I’ll make some coffee.”

“Naynay, he’s going to need more than coffee,” Sammy rolled her eyes, flashing him a grin and shaking her head. “Unlike us, I’m sure Q here needs to live off real food.” Quin gave her a slightly surprised look, because these girls were so strange that he wouldn’t be surprised if they actually did live off coffee, but he recognized it for the joke she meant it as. And then he realized what she’d called him, and he froze.

He knew it couldn’t just be coincidence. Sure she could just be calling him by his first initial, but the glint in her eye spoke otherwise. “… How do you know that?” He didn’t need to explain what he meant, he knew she knew, and he saw Jenny tense and turn to look at them in confusion, because obviously she’s missed something.

Sammy grinned, not responding as she got up and turned around, walking into the kitchen. “Oh shoo, Naynay. You’re amazing with cookies and such, but we both know I’m better with food.” Jenny huffed in indignation, but with a roll of her eyes, she moved out of the kitchen. Sammy grinned, blowing a kiss at her and Jenny laughed, rolling her eyes as she walked over to Quin, dropping down on the ground next to Quin. “Grilled cheese? I think grilled cheese and tomato soup sounds real good, don’t you?” She didn’t wait for an answer, pulling the fridge open and pulling out all the ingredients. She got to work getting the food ready and suddenly the small apartment smelled absolutely delicious. Quin watched her curiously, wondering just how that strange girl who’d had that dangerous glint in her eye before she darted out in a hallway that more than likely had several deadly men in it could be standing in the kitchen, moving around with ease, humming something under her breath.

Jenny watched silently for a few moments as her neighbor watched her flat mate, smiling at the look of complete confusion on his face. Yeah, Sammy had that effect on people. Sometimes even she was confused by just what was going on in that brilliant mind. Though, same could be said about her, too. Everyone just thought she was too innocent looking to be anything but the tiny little “bunny” that needed protecting. Sammy’s words, not hers. “Sorry ‘bout her,” she smiled, figuring she should apologize for her friend. “Sometimes she forgets that not everyone thinks the way we do, and just sweeps them away with her.” She smiled fondly, because yeah, Sammy did that. Part of the reason they got along so well; Sammy brought out the inner crazy in her that she’d spent so long trying to repress, and channeled it in a (mostly) safe way.

Quin looked at Jenny, watching her watch Sammy with that small smile. It was really confusing. “So...” he found himself saying before he could stop himself, “are you and her… together?” This was way beyond awkward. Here he was, lying half-dead on their couch after his first heat in all twenty-six years of his life, his two neighbors he’d never said more than ten words to feeding and protecting him, and he was asking them about their love lives. Yeah, this wasn’t strange at all.

Jenny, to his horror, burst into laughter, doubling over, her shoulders shaking as she laughed and laughed and laughed. Quin was pretty sure he could hear Sammy doing the same thing in the kitchen, and he blushed furiously, suddenly wishing he was back in his flat, alone with his computer. After a few moments of absolute humiliation, Jenny sat back up, wiping at her eyes, a giant smile on her face. And, well, he couldn’t actually be too mad at her when she looked that happy. She just looked too innocent and he couldn’t be mad at that! “Oh God no! Sammy and I?” She couldn’t stop laughing, but she set a hand on his shoulder, and he felt slightly better, because for some reason he knew she wasn’t laughing at him, just at his confusion. It seemed like they got that a lot. “I’m pretty sure we’d kill one another if we ever got together. We’re brilliant as friends, and I swear we share a mind sometimes, but if she and I ever tried to get together, I think everyone would have to run  for cover, because things would just start exploding.” She paused for a moment, tilting her head to the side. “Besides, I have a boyfriend.”

Oh, well… Quin flushed in embarrassment, spluttering as he tried to make himself look just a bit less of an idiot. “I’m sorry, it’s just you guys seem so close and seem to know one another so well, and you live together and I just assumed…” He stopped, frowning and Jenny smiled, touching his shoulder. Their eyes met, and he knew it was alright, that she didn’t think he was an idiot, and he felt his own lips twitch up into a small, hesitant smile. Because she was just too cute for her own good.

Sammy cleared her throat, and Quin jumped, though Jenny only turned her head to look at her, raising a brow. She was carrying a tray of food, and she walked over, setting the tray on the floor before she helped Quin shift into a sitting position. “Don’t sweat it,” she mumbled, turning back around and setting the tray on Quin’s lap. She patted his shoulder, giving him a smile, and it was different than the one Jenny gave him. He could tell that this girl was dangerous, but right here her eyes looked soft and adoring. Quin found her rather confusing. “Lots of people make that mistake. Hell, Naynay’s mom thinks I’m in deep lesbian love with her.” At that she shot Jenny a look, waggling her eyebrows and the both of them burst into laughter, Quin joining in a moment later, because, well, he just wanted to. Something about these two was calming, and he felt protected. Probably because they had protected him, but it was more than that. He felt as if as soon as he’d shown up on their doorstep, eyes wide, begging for their help, that they’d let him into their little world and he’d become a part of this little family they had. He was probably just delirious from the shock and pain of the heat, though.

The laughter died down, and Quin looked at the food in his lap. A grilled cheese and tomato soup, just as she’d said. And, well, it looked really, really good. He picked up the sandwich and dipped the corner of it into the bowl of soup, taking a hesitant bite. Flavor exploded on his taste buds, and he froze. Sammy watched him, tensing slightly when he didn’t move. And then, well, Quin would never admit that he’d scarfed the stuff down. No, he was just really hungry and he might have possibly eaten it a bit faster than he normally would have. Sammy untensed, grinning, and walked back to the kitchen to do the dishes. Jenny giggled, sitting next to him patiently as he shoved food into his mouth. She knew the feel. Sammy generally made her food after her heats, because, sadly, her boyfriend was far away at college, and couldn’t cook for her.

“So this was your first heat?” Jenny asked, figuring they should start discussing this. Because if it was his first heat, then Quin had a lot to learn. And, well, she rather liked Quin. He was adorable like a puppy, and she knew that Sammy liked him too. She’d been the one sitting by the door, gun in hand, growling whenever she heard a sound in the hall. They didn’t know just what their neighbor had done to upset such powerful people, but they didn’t really care. All that mattered was that someone was trying to hurt the man who’d stumbled to their doorway in need of assistance. And, well, their door was always open to strays. They would never turn away someone who needed them, because they knew just  what it felt like to have no one to turn to, to feel as if the world was against them and had no sympathy for them.

Quin paused, his spoon halfway to his mouth, looking as if he’d been caught. He felt panic sweep over him, because the memories of just what had happened came back to him, and it wasn’t until Jenny’s hand touched his shoulder reassuringly, and he saw Sammy standing in the doorway of the kitchen with a worried look, that he realized he was hyperventilating. He made himself calm down, setting the food down and moving it off his lap to the floor. He took a moment to regain his composure, before he looked at Jenny and nodded. “It was my first.” He paused, trying to think of just how to say this. “I’ve never shown signs of being an Omega. I always thought I was a Beta. Never thought to get tested, because I thought that since I didn’t have a heat when I hit puberty I couldn’t be. They say that in 98% of cases, Omegas have their first heat between the ages 16 and 18. 1.99% have their heat between the ages 18 and 20. Only .01% of Omegas have a heat after that. It’s practically unheard of. I just… I never thought I could be one of those. I’ve never felt attracted to Alphas specifically. I’ve never shown signs to being anything but a Beta.”

Sometime while he was talking, Sammy had wandered over, dropping to the ground and leaning against the wall. She was watching Quin carefully, analytically, and he felt like she was looking into him, trying to see something he wasn’t saying. He didn’t know what, but it was disconcerting. Her brown eyes looked at him in a way that made him feel as if she could see everything he was thinking, everything he wasn’t saying. He wanted to squirm under her gaze, but didn’t, because he was Quin, guy who’d just hacked his way into MI6’s database. A small smirk broke out on Sammy’s face, and she looked away, reaching over and pulling something from her waistband. It was an honest to God gun. She had a gun in the back of her pants, like in all those stupid American movies. She pulled it out, and he felt his throat dry, suddenly struck by the fact that he was in two strangers’ apartment, barely able to sit up without spikes of pain running through him. He waited for her to turn the gun on him, to tell him she knew all about what he’d done and she was an agent sent to kill him.

Except she didn’t. She pushed the release, and the magazine fell out, pulling back the slide and the bullet in the barrel fell out. He watched as she moved, seemingly on automatic, pulling the gun apart with ease. She pulled a bottle out and started cleaning the gun. It was strange watching her do that. Her face was completely blank, but he could see in her eyes that her mind was racing, processing something. He knew the look in her eyes, knew that she was thinking something important over, and cleaning the gun was her way of keeping her hands busy as her mind raced.

He didn’t realize the entire room had gone silent until Sammy finally put the reassembled gun down, not bothering to load it. She looked up at him, and he could tell she’d reached a decision. Jenny looked between them both curiously, wondering just what was going on, and how much she’d missed.

Finally, Sammy’s lips turned up into a small smirk. “It’s nice to finally meet the infamous Q, menace of the cyber world.”

Q froze, not having expected that. He gulped. “… How do you know that?”

Sammy’s smirk grew into a full on grin. “You should really be more careful with your hardware. ‘You’ve been Q-ed’? Catchy. But next time try not to leave your screen opened to that when you’re trying to hide the fact you just hacked the British Secret Service’s mainframe.” Quin remained completely still, holding his breath as he waited for her to pick the gun up and shoot him. “Lucky for you, I cleaned it up before they got there. Wiped your computer. Hope you have a backup somewhere.”

Suddenly all the tension bled out of him, and he slumped. Jenny moved automatically, putting a hand on his shoulder for support, looking between Sammy and Quin as everything started falling into place. She smiled, knowing where this was going, and finding the entire thing hilarious.

Quin watched her carefully. There was more to his neighbor than he’d first thought. Not many people would know just who he was, even after his signature message. She knew his online alias, and seemed to know a lot about his reputation. “Who are you, Sammy?”

The grin on her face just grew wider, a dangerous glint in her eyes, and he should be scared, but he just found it intriguing. This girl was a force of nature, and he couldn’t help but be swept along. Jenny could see it, could see Sammy’s presence taking effect on their poor, unsuspecting neighbor, and had to stifle a laugh at the look on his face. Yeah, Sammy had that effect. “You wound me, Q darling,” Sammy purred, pressing a hand against her chest over her heart, a mock expression of hurt on her face. “That really hurt, Q. You should be able to recognize your biggest fan.”

Her words hit him, and he felt a smile break free. “River?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Hello, Q,” Sammy replied, and they shared a smile, Jenny watching them and grinning as well. “I’m so glad we can finally meet.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry everyone. I forgot to hit the multi-chapter button, so it made it seem like that was the only chapter -hides from rotten fruit chucking-  
> I fixed it, and got this chapter up.  
> So sorry for the confusion.   
> Hope you enjoy!

James Bond was not having a good day. Just another one in a string of bad days for the past two and a half weeks since the bloody mission began. He’d been shipped off to the to the middle of bloody Dublin, and told he was supposed to help smooth over some problems the Crown had been having with a band of vigilantes. They rarely sent him to Ireland, because the situation there was still too delicate; the majority of the population was still hostile at best, and downright anarchists at worst, towards anyone under the control of the Crown. Bond couldn’t exactly blame them for being upset; the people had a legitimate reason to be upset. But he was a loyalist through and through, and he had been ordered for the good of the country to go there. Because recently, there had been talks of a treaty in the works that would hopefully bring an end to the Troubles, and one of the more notorious vigilantes was trying to round up the different branches and organize them in one standing militia to rebel against the Crown.

So they’d called Bond in to infiltrate the ranks and work his way up, so that he could eliminate the threat. The army would collapse without a strong leader, and all threat they imposed would dissipate. Cut off the head of the snake before it could strike.

Unfortunately, what should have been a simple job ended up taking a turn for the worst, everything going to hell when his tie clip camera, which he hadn’t even known about mind you, had been discovered right before he’d made it to the top terrier!

The next couple days had blurred into a haze of pain and blood and more pain and more blood. He briefly remembered being asked questions and responding with snarky innuendos, getting beaten for those, but never breaking down and telling them the truth. And then one guard had ventured too close, and been knocked out when Bond’s forehead collided with his face. It took a bit of time getting out of the chair, time Bond didn’t think he had to waste, but finally he was free, and he nicked the keys off the guard, stripping his uniform and putting it on before he was sprinting down the halls, trying to find a way out. Finally he found it, and he tore off the uniform in an alley, making his way through the streets until he was sure any tail he’d picked up got lost. Only then did he let himself go back to the hotel.

Of course, after that infiltration wasn’t exactly an option. His face was known to the enemy, and the man he was supposed to take out had been carted away in the chaos of his escape, hiding out in some safe house at God knows where. He’d had his chance, and lost it. Because of the bloody idiots in Q branch, and their moronic leader. The man was almost fifty, damn it! If he couldn’t do his job properly, he needed to retire so that they could replace him with someone at least competent. Bond was getting sick and tired of his jobs going haywire because of their blunders.

It had been a long 6 days after the mistake that almost blew the operation, and each day was spent listening to M rant at him for half an hour, and the rest of the time he was on stakeouts in the middle of nowhere, grinding his teeth as the idiots in Q-branched tried to pinpoint the location of the safe house. Only on a stroke of luck did he actually managed to find a clue where the safe house was, on his own! The useless people in Q-branch sure as hell didn’t do shite to help there. If he didn’t know better, he would say they were purposely being as useless as they could manage. But he knew the truth: they were just incompetent sods who didn’t deserve to work in a Best Buy, let alone MI6. He wasn’t the only agent who thought that, he was just the only agent with balls enough to say it aloud.

Feeling especially spiteful after this latest blunder, Bond made a good show of standing directly in front of a camera he knew even the dumb ass leading Q-branch could hack, and threw his comm into the street. Moments later, a truck drove by, smashing the thing under its tire. A thrill of triumph ran through him at the sound of it crunching against the pavement. He turned to the camera, grinning just to fuck with the old man, then saluted him and walked off to handle the situation himself. He didn’t need to listen to some fat prat that dared call himself the Quartermaster fumble around and splutter. All it did was get in the way of his operation, and he was sick of the man holding him back with his ineptitude.  If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself, he thought ruefully, making his way to the safe house in the dead of the night.

He’d gotten his ass chewed out for the whole comm thing, but that didn’t matter, and even M couldn’t argue over the results. He’d finished the mission, shooting the guy between the eyes, and got out. He had debated whether he should nick some poor guy’s iPhone and call HQ to organize a cleanup crew, but decided against it. Since he’d had to clean up Q-branch’s fuck up, he was going to do what he wanted. He’d walked away from the site just as the gas leak hit open flames and the entire thing blew up. He paused to look back, a smirk on his lips and a dangerous glint in his eyes, and then strode off as if nothing had happened.

Afterward, his body had been thrumming with all the excess adrenaline coursing through his system, looking for a way to let it out. So that was how he’d found himself in the nearest pub he could find (not hard since there was at least one each street corner here), and half an hour later, he was in some Alpha female’s hotel room, screwing her against a wall. Then the hallway floor, then the door to the bedroom, then the bed itself. Yeah, it wasn’t as many times as he could have done in his prime, but give him a break. He was 41 after all. He was slowing down.

After they were done, before the sweat on his back had even cooled, he was out of bed pulling his pants back on. She watched silently, not seeming too upset as he beat his hasty exit. They’d both known what this was, that this was just a one night thing meant to help them both blow off some excess energy.

And that most definitely didn’t bother him.

If he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk on his way back to his hotel to watch an Alpha and his Omega mate walk by, cooing over the little bundled up pup in their arms, it was only because he felt sorry for them, not because he wondered what it felt like to have someone who cared if you lived or died. They were tied down, limited to one person, and only one person. Relationships were an unnecessary and undesirable hindrance. Anyone who willingly tied themselves to one person was an idiot and was missing out on all the best parts of life. He could shag anyone he wanted, when he wanted, and he didn’t have to worry about coming home to a very emotional mate. Being mated left you open, gave you a weakness. There was always the chance that your mate would be kidnapped and used against you. Or that your mate would turn on you… Yeah, he definitely didn’t want to be mated. Never again. He’d tried that with Ve- her. And he didn’t need it again.

He was on a plane the next day going back to the only thing that mattered: London. London was and always would be, his only constant, the only thing that no matter what would always remain, the only thing that was worth dying for.

Soon as he walked into HQ, M was on him, descending like a hawk. He braced himself, expecting to be whisked away and reprimanded, possibly suspended for a couple weeks, month at most. M was a bitch, but she wasn’t that cruel.

Instead, M paused in front of him, lips pursed, her anger towards him evident on her face and in her eyes. But she remained silent. Bond looked around, wondering if anyone else was seeing this, if maybe there was something he’d missed. Because M never missed an opportunity to verbally tear him to shreds. Finally, with a sigh, M turned, and he followed instinctively, way too confused at the moment to even try and flee. “007,” she said over her shoulder, not looking back at him, knowing he was following behind her dutifully, “welcome back. Sorry to say you won’t be able to sit down just yet. We have a job for you.”

“What could possibly be so important that you let me skip my debriefing?” he teased, because he was an ass, and he loved making M’s life harder. And because he was out of sorts with this whole thing. It hadn’t happened before, and though he recovered quickly, it still took him a moment to adjust, and sarcasm was just his default safeguard. M shot him a sharp look over her shoulder, showing just how not amused with him she was, and that she saw through his little quips. Bond flashed her a winning smile, backing it up with a ridiculously exaggerated wink, and she didn’t actually groan in annoyance, but it was a rather close thing. Bond grinned when she wasn’t looking, because he was adjusted now. “So what trouble have you lot gotten into while I was gone? Whose mess do I have to clean up this time? Please tell me it isn’t Q-branch again, because if it is I think I might have a previous arrangement I can’t possibly get out of-“

“The central database has been hacked,” M cut him off, not looking back at him, and his mouth snapped shut. Well, that wasn’t what he’d expected. And it was another fuck up by Q-branch, but there wasn’t any leaving right now. Not after something like this. He opened his mouth to ask if they’d been compromised, but M beat him to it. “They cracked through all our defenses and left us completely open to their attack. But as soon as they were through, they pulled out. Left us a message, though.”

And that most definitely was not what James had thought she would say. His frown deepened, and he stood up straighter, opening the door to Q-branch for her and following her in. All the screens were blacked out, and only three words were on display on the entire wall of computer screens: _You’ve been Q-ed._

“He left his signature,” Bond said, and it wasn’t a question. M nodded, and opened her mouth to say something just as one of the Q-branch members let out a little shout of triumph and shouted:

“I found it! I traced the signal!”

After that it was a flurry of motion as everyone rounded at her computer, looking at the map and at the bleeping red circle.

James’ frown deepened, his eyes narrowing. “That’s London.”

Everyone seemed to notice his presence then, and many of the younger members tensed. At that exact moment, the Idiot in Charge (aka the Quartermaster) walked through the room from the server room, his voice booming. “Does someone want to tell me how the bloody hell could this have happened?!”

Everyone turned wide, fearful eyes at him, then at Bond as he took a step forward, breaking out of the crowd. Noticing the 00 agent, the Quartermaster froze, his eyes widening slightly in fear as he took in the murderous look on his face. “I don’t know,” Bond growled, moving even closer until he was glaring down at the robust man. “How about you tell me how some hacker could possibly outsmart the leader of the R&D department of the British Secret Service?”

The large man gulped, because no one could stare down a raging double oh seven and not piss their pants. “H-he was running a program I’ve never seen before. It- it was like something out of a science fiction movie. His code doesn’t match up with anything I’ve ever experienced. He had failsafes that were impossible to crack!”

Bond remained silent for a moment, letting the pig’s words run through his mind. “ ‘Impossible to crack?’ Impossible to crack.” He turned suddenly, the scared man slumping now that those deadly eyes weren’t fixed on him. Bond looked over the crowd, meeting M’s eyes slightly longer than the rest. “Impossible to crack!” he shouted, and the crowd waited for the next to come, because there was no doubt that the agent had something. “Did you not,” James growled, looking at the useless waste of space that served as the Quartermaster, “that our own systems were impossible to hack? That our own failsafes were impossible to crack?” Silence rang after his words as everyone recalled the man saying just that several months ago. When no argument came from the man, Bond made a noise in the back of his throat, speaking of just how frustrated and pissed he was, his fingers twitching towards the gun on his belt showing that he wanted nothing more than to rid the world of this inept fool. “Nothing is impossible to crack,” he hissed, looking over everyone carefully, his eyes finally falling to rest on M’s stoic face. “ _Everything_ has a breaking point.”

And with that he swept from the room, not grabbing any equipment. He had all he needed from his last mission, and they were running out of time. No doubt the man responsible for this breach in security was already fleeing. He had to move fast.

He hopped into the first car he saw: Tanner’s. He didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, the smirk that spread across his face as he saw the man’s horrified look from down the hall as Tanner tried to run forward. He gave the man a little salute, laughing his head off as he drove the car from the garage. And then it was mission mode again. Bond grew instantly sober, thinking about the job at hand. His fingers clenched the steering wheel so tight they turned white, and his eyes narrowed. He’d served in MI6 for years, years, and this punk threatened to take down everything he’d fought for, everything he’d bled for, with just a few touches of his keyboard. He was going to succeed where governments, where armies, had failed, all without a single step outside his apartment. James was furious. The Alpha in him screamed outrage, begging to find this Q and tear him limb from limb. To slaughter him, ruin him, destroy him and everything he held dear. James ground his teeth even harder, his foot pressing the accelerator just a bit more as he sped through traffic, taking back roads and shortcuts and paths that couldn’t even be considered actual roads.

When he found this Q, he was either going to snap his or her neck, or kiss him or her senseless for finally giving him the reason to get rid of that imbecilic of a Quartermaster. Then snap his neck.

He pulled up in front of the building that they’d traced the signal to, barely resisting the urge to drive the car into the bloody building. That wouldn’t be professional. And he was nothing but professional.

As it were, Bond did break the door to the building down. Because why not? He stepped into the building, gun first, doing a quick perimeter sweep for sign of a threat. An old lady holding her mail in one hand, a little rat of a dog in the other, stared back at him with giant, fearful eyes. He dropped the gun, smiling. “Sorry ma’am. Health and safety. Got a call about a rabid dog loose in the building. You may want to evacuate.” He walked past, smirking just slightly at her shriek as he move up the staircase, gun down but ready for a quick shot. Q’s apartment was supposed to be on the basement level, where the rooms were supposed to be cooler. Which, apparently, was needed when running tech like the man was suspected of. Bond stepped down the stairs, eyes peeled for any sort of movement. There was none. Stepping forward, Bond made his way to the apartment number the signal came from. He looked around, making sure no one was around, and reached out to try the handle. It was unlocked.

Instantly, Bond was on high alert. Why would the man who no doubt knew he was going to be hunted by the agency he’d just initiated cyber warfare with leave his door unlocked? Unless he was already gone. Bond pushed into the apartment, gun raised in front of him warily. He made his way room to room, looking around for any trace of a person. He made it right to the room that obviously must have been the man’s work station, finding a blank computer screen. Shit. He needed to make sure Q-branch got that back for evidence. Maybe they could break into it and find out information on Q. Just as he was putting his gun back, he heard a footstep outside the door, instantly turning and walking through the flat towards the front door. Just as he flung it open, he saw a young girl with a bag in her hands making her way down the hall from the staircase. He knew he’d heard the footstep in the flat with him. So why was it she looked like she was just coming in? Unless she’d been acting so that he thought she hadn’t been in the apartment with him. When she tensed upon seeing him, he knew he was right, and he marched closer to her, fixing her with his most terrifying glare. She backed up against the nearest surface: the door to the apartment to the right of Q’s.

To the girl’s credit, she didn’t cower at the look, instead seeming to stand straighter, puffing her rather well-endowed chest out. And no, now was not the time to be admiring the breasts of the girl that could possibly be the one that took down MI6’s mainframe. Though… maybe he’d rethink the whole ‘snap his or her neck’ thing. He frowned, stopping when they were glaring at one another, his piercing blue eyes glaring down at her as her surprisingly dark brown ones glared him with just as much anger. He was slightly surprised. The girl didn’t look like she could take him, but she seemed to hold herself with the confidence that she could wipe the floor with him. Maybe she was thinking of how easy it would be to take him down on her precious computer. If this girl really was Q, that was.

“Ma’am,” he bit, trying to think of the best possible way to go about this. “Is this your flat?”

The  girl’s eyes narrowed, and he had to give it to her. The girl had spunk. He found that rather sexy. Which was not the thing he should be thinking when this girl could possibly be the biggest threat to national security he’d faced in a long time. Especially since she looked to be half his age. “And just who’s asking?” she growled, and Bond could practically hear her teeth grinding. He took a small breath in, and suddenly was filled with the scent of a very, very pissed off Alpha female. He almost took a step back at the intensity of it. He hadn’t experienced one so strong in a very, very long time. She must have seen the slight slip, because he could see a spark of triumph in her eyes, her scent strengthening even more, and that was rather distracting. “I’ll ask you again, because it seems you’re rather slow. Who’s. Asking?”

And that acted like the verbal slap to the face she intended it as, bringing Bond back to his senses immediately. Feisty one. She was going to be hard to get anything out of, if he could get anything out of her. Suddenly the idea that she could be the infamous Q didn’t seem so farfetched.

James felt his own Alpha raise to the challenge, trying to push out pheromones of his own to make her submit. He was the Alpha male. She should be submitting and giving him whatever he wanted. “If you weren’t so quick to insult a stranger-“ he started.

“If perhaps said stranger wasn’t practically trapping me against a door, demanding I answer all his questions, I wouldn’t have a reason to be so hostile,” she spat back. He frowned at that, and she saw her moment, taking a step forward and poking his chest rather hard with a finger, making him take another step back.

“Oi, stop that,” he mumbled, taking another step back as she just kept moving forward, her finger digging into his chest as her eyes flared in rage up at him. Her mahogany hair fell around her face in waves, cut short. It looked shaggy around her face, which should have lessened the intensity of her stare with how ridiculous it looked, but instead it made her look like a mad dog. Her pheromones weren’t helping at all, still pumping out of her at a ridiculous rate as she pushed arguably one of the most dangerous men in London down the hall.

“Why the bloody hell should I?” she snarled, pushing him against a wall, and wasn’t this a strange turn of events. He almost cowered away, because he knew an angry woman, especially an angry Alpha woman, was not someone you should mess with, but he kept his face blank, only his eyes giving away the confusion breaking through him. “I have no idea who you are, but I know for certain that isn’t your flat, and I think you should leave!”

He grit his teeth, staying against the wall, because yes that finger was kind of hurting his chest, though not so much hurting as irritating. He was a double oh, after all. His pain tolerance was exceptional. His patience? Not so much. “Ma’am, the person in this flat has been reported of misdemeanors and crimes against the Crown. I’ve been charged to bring him in. Now if you know where he is, I must insist you tell me, otherwise I will have to charge you for aiding and abetting, as well as obstruction of crime.”

Perhaps that hadn’t been the best thing to say, he thought as he watched her nostrils flare, her eyes widening in anger at the blatant threat. Her finger pressed even harder against his chest, and he had to count down from ten to keep his anger in check and not to simply reach out and snap her finger in half. She did have lovely fingers.

“You stupid prat! Who do you think you are? Coming into our building, breaking into my friend’s apartment, and then insisting that I tell you where the bloody hell he is!” she screamed, looking as if she wanted to slap him. Instead she huffed, stepping away from him and giving him her back as she readjusted her backpack on her back, walking towards another door, presumably to her own flat. Bond followed her, reaching out and touching her shoulder, and she rounded on him, eyes narrowed in absolute fury. He took a step to the side without thinking when the muscles in her right arm flexed, as if to throw a punch. He now stood between her and the staircase, and she turned again to look at him. If he were anyone but 007, one of MI6’s top agents, he would have most certainly pissed himself at the look in her eyes. “Even if I knew where his worthless hide was, I most certainly would not tell you, Mr. I’m-so-bloody-hot-that-you-should-most-definitely-peel-your-clothes-off-and-throw-yourself-at-me-so-I-can-laugh-and-fuck-you-into-oblivion-before-leaving-you-in-the-middle-of-the-night-like-a-bloody-coward!” She stopped then, breathing harshly, glaring up at him with those brown eyes, lips slightly parted from her rant. She looked utterly delicious, and smelled it too. He loved his women feisty.

As if seeing the look in his eyes, she pounced, and when her arms came up toward his neck, he thought she was actually lunging as if to choke him. So when she threw her arms around his neck, twisting them to slam them both against a wall, he was slightly caught off guard. And when his lips parted at the sudden impact with the wall, she sealed their lips together in a hot, punishing kiss. And, well, Bond was only human. Who was he to deny a woman a kiss when she literally threw herself at him? He wrapped his arms around her waist, his head tilting with hers, lips moving against hers, and then she caught his lower lip with her teeth, tugging at it and giving him one of the hottest snogs he’d ever had. A very startled, lustful sound left him before he could stop it. His hands roamed over her body, and one of her hands tangled in his hair, pulling at it roughly, almost too roughly.

A moan slipped from her lips, and then she was gone. He opened his eyes just a moment before she raised her right hand and slapped him. Hard. He hissed, because what the fuck was wrong with this woman? First she assaulted him, then she snogged him like her life depended on it, and then she went and slapped him! And just why was he finding this kinky and hot? “Well fuck you!” she shrieked. “Why the hell are you such a fucking good kisser?” She pulled away, and he watched her in complete shock, his brain trying to catch up with what the hell was going on. “How are you real you God damn too bloody perfect to exist man?” She was stomping away from him, unlocking her door and stepping in, and he wasn’t stopping her, still too confused as to what the bloody hell was happening to move. “I swear to- GAH!” She flipped him the bird, glaring at him as if her anger could make him erupt into flames if she tried hard enough. And then she was gone. The door slammed shut behind her, and he heard the sound of locks being thrown.

He stood there for a long moment, his brain slowly catching up to what had just happened. Well… that was interesting.

It was only as he was making his way out of the building in a daze that he remembered the whole reason he was here. And then he was cursing, because she’d gotten into her flat. With a backpack.That he hadn't searched. Fuck

But now he knew that she wasn’t Q. Because in her anger, she’d let slip something very important: Q was a man.

 

 

The next few hours passed in mostly a blur. Bond remembered calling HQ, telling them that Q was long gone. They sent a whole bunch of agents over, and though M didn’t come herself, she sent one of the many secretaries meant to deal with Bond.

Agent Avril stomped into the building, her eyes narrowed at 007,not looking anywhere but at him, and he had the decency to look apologetic. Agent Avril was by far one of the most intimidating Betas he’d ever met, and the way she took none of his shit, not even batting an eyelash at his best advances honestly scared him sometimes. The woman was intimidating when she wanted to be, despite the fact that when she wasn’t glaring him down she looked like a little innocent kitten. She demanded he give her a full report of just what exactly had happened, and he had frowned, but done as she asked, because he knew he’d have to give the report anyways, and one did not simply ignore Agent Avril. When he got to the part about the strange girl in the hall, her eyes had narrowed, and he knew that despite the fact he had been trying to skim over that, she knew there was more to it. Best not hide it. She’d only figure it out later and come back and slam something against his head. So he explained the whole thing to her.

To his relief, when she cuffed him upside the head, it was only with her hand, and not one of those giant books that seemed to appear out of nowhere when she needed to knock some sense into someone’s cranium. “You bloody fool! She beat you at your own game, you incessant flirt. That’s what you get for staring at a random girl’s breasts, you womanizing idiot!” He got another slap, and then she was whirled away, off to terrorize someone else. Bond couldn’t help but breathe out a sigh of relief. Yes, Agent Avril was very, very scary.

Some agent wandered over to him, standing by his side until he looked up, annoyed by their presence when all he wanted to do was wallow in misery for fucking up. Beaten by a girl. A girl half his age. That was rather humiliating. “What do you want?” he snapped, feeling slightly guilty at the terrified look in the young intern’s eyes. He sighed, running a hand over his face and looking at her, speaking softer this time. “What do you want?” She held out a phone to him, her hand slightly shaking, and he took it, muttering a soft thank you, and watched her scurry off as fast as she could, putting the phone to his ear. “Bond.”

“ _007_ ,” M’s voice rang through the phone, and he sat up straighter at the serious edge to her voice. “ _We have a problem_.”

“I’m on my way back to headquarters,” he was saying, already up and making his way out of the building.

“ _No_ ,” M said, and he paused. “ _You need to get to the airport as fast as you can. I’ve arranged to have Agent Eve meet you there. She’ll brief you on the flight over_.”

Bond nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “Where am I going?”

“ _Istanbul_.” 


	3. Chapter 3

One girl by the alias of River, after River Song from the popular television show, Doctor Who. That’s who he had in front of him. The infamous hacker River, one of the only other hackers that Quin somewhat respected, was sitting on the floor by the couch he was sitting on. Her brown eyes sparkled with merriment as he struggled to grasp the fact that one of his only competent competitor had been right across the hallway this entire time.

Jenny bit her lip to keep from laughing at the look on Q’s face. The poor guy looked like he’s just been socked in the gut. Yeah, she knew the feeling. Hanging around Sammy was filled with all sorts of perils. Most people couldn’t handle the constant chaos, and the odd quirks, but Jenny found them intriguing, and felt comfortable around the girl that was just as strange as she was.

“They stopped looking for you,” she finally said, figuring she should change the subject so Q’s head didn’t explode. It worked spectacularly, because within an instant Q’s head had snapped to look at her, and she could see Sammy’s smile out of the corner of her eye. “Well, I’m pretty sure they didn’t stop looking for you, but they aren’t in the apartment building anymore. They disappeared a day after they came. Guess they couldn’t find you, so they thought you fled.” She paused, meeting Sammy’s eyes, and Q saw something in those brown eyes harden, and she looked like she was furious. He found out why a second later, when Jenny said in a small voice, “I’ve been going out and looking around each day on my way to work. There’s always this one car parked across the street, no matter what time it is. I think they set a patrol to watch out for you, though I don’t know how they’d know your face.”

Q’s lips set into a firm line, and he felt anger course through him. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he argued. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in danger like that for me. What if they had grabbed you? What if they thought you were me and took you in? You can’t do something so reckless. Especially for me. You don’t know me, and I don’t expect you to risk your life for you.” He knew Sammy was silently agreeing with him, but when he chanced a look at her, she was glaring. At him.

Jenny herself was fixing him with a rather terrifying glare, though it actually wasn’t that bad of one. It just seemed especially horrifying because it came from Jenny. Sweet, little innocent Jenny who hadn’t given him a single bad look or said a bad word about him since he’d known her. And she was glaring at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world, and she wanted nothing more than to slap him upside the head. He even braced for it, figuring it was coming, that’s how mad she looked.

“Quin, I have no idea what the rest of your name is, but if I did I’d be saying it very harshly and making you cower in fear because apparently I sound like a very angry mother when I do that,” she growled. “If you think that I would just sit here and let you go wandering out without knowing just what was waiting for you outside, you’re nothing like the brilliant man Sammy seems to think you are.” Q frowned, looking at Sammy for some assistance, but the other girl was sitting up straight, arms crossed, eyebrow raised at him, nodding as Jenny spoke him. “I may not know you, and I may have spoken to you more in these past couple days than in the past year and a half we’ve lived across the hall from one another,” Jenny admitted, “but if you honestly think that I’m just going to let you go out there blind and possibly get shot, you’re incredibly dim.” Q must have looked like he was about to argue, but Jenny held a hand up, and continued on, giving him a look that said she was going to have her say and he was going to listen. “Sammy and I took you in and kept you safe from government officials, meaning we’re aiding and abetting a wanted criminal. And you know what? That’s fine with me. Because though I don’t know you well, I know you’re a kind, caring, intelligent man who needed our help, and you’ve been adopted. Whether you like it or not, we’re going to protect you, Q. Because that’s what we do, that’s who we are. I’m sure Sammy agrees with me.”

Jenny looked at Sammy, and Q did too. The other girl’s lips were quirked up in a half smile, and she was looking at Jenny, nodding approvingly. She looked at Q, shrugging. “Jenny doesn’t put her foot down and insist on things very often, but when she does, I’ve learned you just gotta go along with it, or you’re gonna get ran over as she storms by.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “And if you got whacked, I wouldn’t have a genius hacker buddy who takes all the spotlight so I can do my thing without drawing too much attention.” She shot him a wink, and he knew she was joking.

He couldn’t help but laugh, looking between the two girls who had saved his life more times than he probably knew in the past couple days. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you both…” He looked down, playing with the frayed edge of the blanket they must have put over him sometime while he was asleep. “You’ve done so much for me… I owe you both my life.”

There was silence for a moment, before he felt a hand under his chin, pulling his head up to make him look at Jenny’s face. Up this close, he could see the smattering of freckles adorning her pale skin, and the golden specks in her icy blue eyes. Those eyes looked at him softly, full of adoration. He was distinctly reminded of his mother, the way she was looking at him making him feel safe and loved the way he hadn’t since she’d died. “You don’t owe us anything, Q.”

“Yeah,” Sammy frowned, having stood up and moved to stand over Jenny’s shoulder sometime since he last looked at her. “You’re family. So stop acting like a sap and eat your food. We’ve got a lot of things to figure out. But first you eat, then sleep.”

She started walking away, and he watched her leave the room before looking at Jenny. “Where’s she going?” His voice was filled with concern, because he had a feeling if anyone was going to do something reckless, it would be Sammy.

Jenny paused, looking where her best friend had just gone, biting her lip slightly. She was worried as well, but there was a hard set to her jaw, and something in her eyes when she looked back at him that told him just how much confidence Jenny had in Sammy. It made him rethink just how strong both these women were, and he felt another wave of respect go through them. “She’s going to go fix this the only way she knows how,” Jenny finally replied. There was a slight waver in her voice that made Q instantly wary. Whatever she was about to say, she didn’t like it, but she’d resigned to whatever was to come. He gave her an imploring look, and she continued, voice grave. “She’s going to turn herself in to MI6.”

“What?” Quin screeched, sitting up ramrod straight, his eyes going wide as his stomach dropped. No, nononono. “No. She can’t do that. Sammy! No!” he shouted, making as if to get off the couch, but Jenny showed a moment of strength he hadn’t known she had, and pushed him back down, holding him in place as she stared into his eyes, looking just as upset as him, but resigned.

“Quin,” she snapped, and that one word made him stop fighting, because it was like getting a scolding from his mum. “Calm down.”

Q’s eyes narrowed at her, and his voice as a growl. “How am I supposed to calm down when she’s going to get herself killed for me? She can’t do this, Jenny. I won’t let her.”

“You want to try and stop Sammy when she’s set her mind to something?” Jenny raised a brow. When Q hesitated, unable to form a logical argument against that, she pressed on. “I don’t like it any more than you do, Quin. Sammy’s my best friend, and I think of her as a little sister, though she’s just as responsible for me as I am for her. She’s loyal and once you have her trust, you’ve got her on your side, and all the people who want to hurt you had better run. But she has no regard for her own safety when her friends are in danger, and when she’s decided something, it takes Heaven and Earth to make her change her mind.” She paused, and Q saw a pained expression cross her face as she shot a glance toward a room in the back. He felt his heart pang for her, because she was just as upset by this as he was, probably more so, because this was her friend, and she was going to have to sit by and watch her die. He frowned, his hand coming up to cover one of hers that rested on his shoulder, his thumb brushing against the back of it in what he hoped was somewhat comforting. Jenny looked down at their hands, managing a small, sad smile. “She’d sooner die than let her friends get hurt. I know without a doubt she’d take a bullet for me, and I know she’d do the same for you. She wasn’t exaggerating when she said you were family.  So sit back, and let her do what she has to do to keep you safe.”

Q frowned. There was no way he was going to do that. He just had to wait for the opportune moment to put his counterplan in action.

So he sat there, as Jenny told him to, and ate the food Sammy had made for him, and listened as Sammy rustled around in the room next to them, gathering things and doing something. He knew that if he paid attention to it, the food would taste amazing, but his mind was too busy trying to come up with a plan. Because he wouldn’t let either of these girls risk themselves for his sake.

His chance happened that night, when Sammy’s plot to turn herself in in his stead got put on hold because it seemed as if their ‘brother’ Chris had come into town and they’d left the apartment to have dinner, albeit a little reluctantly. They kept shooting Q worried looks, trying to reason that they couldn’t just leave him alone when people were searching for him, but he shrugged them off. They hadn’t seen their brother in awhile, and they needed a night off. So finally they trudged out of the apartment, shooting him worried glances as they left.

As soon as they were gone, Q was up, rummaging through the backpack of his stuff Sammy had grabbed, pulling out his phone.

\------

He hadn’t called immediately, needing to go right himself. He very well couldn’t let them come and find him while he was in this state, still in the clothes he’d been in when Sammy and Jenny had rescued him, the shirt soaked with sweat, the pants crusty with the slick he’d dripped during his heat. No. If they smelled him, there would be no doubt as to what he was, and he did not want MI6 knowing he was an Omega. He couldn’t give them that to use against him. So he’d gone and taken a quick shower in his friend’s flat, not daring to go in his own yet in case it was being watched, and changed into the clothes Sammy had managed to steal for him. They weren’t his best, and he would have preferred something a bit more formal for the first meeting with the infamous M, but he figured that his cardigan and some nice dress slacks were better than nothing. When he’d deemed himself properly groomed, he picked up the phone again and dialed the first number he thought of. It didn’t matter who he called. The agency was likely tracking his cell (he would be rather disappointed with them if they weren’t), and soon as he made the call it should set of a red light on their scanners.

It had taken almost 15 minutes for their agents to arrive, for the men to burst through the door and grab  him. Honestly, he was a bit disappointed. British secret service, and it took them fifteen minutes to get to his apartment. He was in the same city for God’s sake. What did that say about them? Seems even the British secret service wasn’t immune to London traffic.

He was waiting on the couch in his flat, legs crossed, hands on his lap, when they came in, and he raised a brow at the guns they held before them. Honestly? He’d called them and told them where to find him, and they thought he was going to what? Be sitting here, guns at the ready? Bomb strapped to his chest? He was a hacker, not a fighter. He’d only shot a gun twice in his life, and both times in a shooting range.

Either way, that’s how they came in. Q did his best to look calm and composed at the side of several guns that was not preferable for him. They shouted for him to put his hands up, and he raised a brow, looking at them in annoyance. “Really?” he drawled, his lack of amusement with this whole situation overriding his senses. At least for a moment. Then the scent of all these Alpha males suddenly in his apartment hit him, and he felt his eyes widen just slightly, and his body tense up.  Fuck. He hadn’t been prepared for that.

He was still new to Omega-cy, and wasn’t quite up to par at pretending to be a Beta. But, no time like the present to learn. And he had to learn quick.

Quin schooled his face into a mask, forcing himself to relax and seem at ease, hoping they thought his momentary lapse of composure had been due to him, oh I dunno, being put at gunpoint. Or that they didn’t notice it at all.

Apparently, luck was on his side, because as he raised his arms to place them at the back of his head, they surged forward, one of them pushing him to the ground, another pinning him there as the first man handcuffed him. Really? Handcuffs? Hacker, idiots. Not much a criminal without a computer. He tried not to let himself think of how much he liked the weight of a body pressing him into the ground, or the way the scent of the Alpha on top of him was making his head feel foggy.

They pulled him up, and he let out a cry of pain as one of them twisted his arm rather harshly, his shoulder throbbing as it hyperextended just slightly. At least it didn’t dislocate, he thought grimly, his lips tight in a grimace as he glared at the people. This was a bit over the top, if you asked him. Honestly.

There was a cry from the hall, and as they dragged him out, he saw four agents struggling to hold people back. He noted that one of them was holding Jenny, whose face was chalk white, her eyes wide in shock and terror. A boy, who looked at least two years younger than Quin himself, was holding her arm, his shaggy brown hair hanging in his eyes in ringlets, his dorky glasses making him look disheveled and off balance. There was an agent on either side of them, looking ready to grab them should they dash forward. The boy, Chris he guessed, was looking at Jenny in worry, his eyes flitting between her and the last person.

Sammy was throwing herself forward, snarling and spitting insults and threats left and right at the agents who held her back, the two of them struggling to hold back the raging Alpha female. His eyes met hers, and he could see that she was furious, but underneath that he saw a bone deep terror and dread. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to go to her and tell her to calm down. But with the agents roughly pushing him forward, that was impossible. As it were, their eyes met and he saw Sammy freeze for a moment, her eyes widening, and then she was throwing herself forward even harder, screaming at him. “YOU FUCKING IDIOT! I TOLD YOU! I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THIS! DAMN IT Q! DAMN YOU!” she screamed, slumping in the agents’ arms. To Q’s horror, he could see that tears had started streaming down her face, and he felt a pang of guilt was through him.

He looked at the agents, giving them a pleading look, and apparently one of them took pity on him, stopping their pushing. He turned to look at Sammy, an apology in his eyes. “I’m sorry Sammy. I’m sorry. But I promise, everything’s going to be okay. You’ll see. Everything’s going to be okay.”

And it would be. It had to be. This had been the plan in the first place. To break in, to get caught (was it getting caught when you wanted to get caught?), and to show up at MI6 and flaunt the fact that their system was cracked by a kid just out of Uni. It had to be alright. It would be. He’d show her. It would be alright.

And apparently his time was up, because they began pushing him forward again, and Q didn’t struggle, letting himself be lead forward, his head held high, chin up. He was not being taken against his will. He’d wanted this. He was going to MI6, and he was going to shake the very foundation they laid upon. He’d show them that the days of barbaric brutality were over, and that the cyber age had taken its place.

\----

Q was ushered into a room that he doubted was meant for torturing poor souls who got caught by MI6, which was a relief to him. Much as he wanted to come off as confident, he doubted he would have been able to keep his calm surrounded by concrete walls coated in the blood of past prisoners who’d been deemed a threat to Queen and Country.

Instead, he was led into an office of sort, and was taken aback. Apparently something really important was going on today. He frowned, staring at the people fluttering around outside frantically, shouting and sprinting from place to place. He himself was seated in the corner of what he assumed was the main office. It was much larger than the others, and there was a woman perched behind the desk, sitting calmly in the chaos, her eyes scanning over screens and listening to reports from a man who stood in the corner. Her blue eyes were cold and calculating, nodding at each update given. Q didn’t exactly understand just what was happening, but he gathered that it had to do with someone named 007, and some sort of list.

“Take the bloody shot!” the woman shouted at the speaker where a female voice had been pouring in with status updates, and then there was the sound of gunfire, making Q jump just slightly in his seat. It wasn’t that gunfire scared him… it just startled him… Alright, maybe it scared him just a bit. But that was because he’d never heard it on anything but the telly before.

“Agent down,” came the static-y reply through the radio, and the entire building seemed to freeze, everyone seemingly stopping to breathe. Q didn’t know just what was so shocking. Agents had to go down every day. It was just something everyone here should be well versed in. They were playing the game of life and death here. Why was everyone so surprised that another had gone down?

The entire building seemed to be holding their breath, and Q found himself too scared to breath, for fear of what could happen should he break the silence that had fallen upon them all. Finally, there was an exhale, and all the eyes in the room snapped to the woman behind the desk, who’d moved to stand in front of the window, her back to them. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed to have… deflated. Though she wasn’t big in stature, she had this kind of presence that demanded she be noticed. Now… she just looked like everything about her had broken down, and she almost seemed to be closing in on herself. For a second, Q was struck by a sudden sense of remorse for her, not sure just why she looked so sad, but he was human, and he had a heart.

Then her eyes flashed, and that brief glimpse of vulnerability was gone, tucked away. She would mourn later, when there was no one around. Now, her eyes were closed off entirely, looking brighter blue than before, a dangerous edge to them. There was no compassion in those eyes, and for the first time since he’d planned this, Q felt fearful for his life. He resisted the urge to swallow in fear, meeting her gaze squarely. It was a silent staring match, a battle of wills, and he couldn’t afford to lose.

Finally, something shifted, and she looked away, moving back to sit at her desk, her hand raising to pick up a ridiculous porcelain bulldog from her desk, turning it round and round in her hands. “I would ask you if you knew why you were here, Mr. Quin, but I think that would be a bit redundant.” She looked up at him, setting the bulldog down. “So, let’s get straight to it then, shall we? How did you hack our network?”

Her eyes pierced into him, pinning him into his seat, and he squashed the urge to squirm. “Simple asymmetrical algorithm. Attacked your safeguards in a way that didn’t activate them, integrating into your system and shutting it down piece by piece until it was your system. Then it was simply a matter of destroying the central HUB and downloading all your files onto my external drive.” He was proud of how calm he sounded, his legs crossed, hands joined and resting on his knee. He didn’t look from her until he finished, looking down to brush a bit of lint off his trousers. “No big deal, really. Your system was lacking, and if I had wanted to, I could have gotten into it months ago. But I had bigger things to work on. Better systems to compromise.”

He would have missed the slight wince had he not been looking for it. That minute tell showed him that despite the front she put on, the idea that he had so easily broke into their system had made her furious. And terrified. “Really then? Then why exactly did you choose now to attack?” she asked, raising a brow at him.

“I suppose because I got bored,” Q replied with a shrug.

Silence fell in the room, and again everyone seemed to go silent. Their eyes focused on him in absolute shock, having not expected a response like that. M herself looked slight frazzled, and most definitely furious. “Let me get this straight,” she said finally, leaning towards him. “You hacked into MI6, the British Secret Service, the most advanced and complex security system in the world, because you got bored?”

“Well isn’t someone rather confident for having just been hacked in under ten minutes,” was his reply, a smug grin on his lips. He just couldn’t help that from escaping. “I’ve faced high school students with better firewalls than yours,” he threw, just to see her turn a rather interesting shade of pruce.

She didn’t disappoint.

Silence fell again, and everyone waited on bated breath to see just what the head of MI6 would do in response. Q already knew what she was going to do. He’d known the moment he’d decided to hack the system. And he could see it in her eyes now. The choice was evident, and he knew that there was really only one option for her. She knew it too. Finally, she pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair, looking to the side a moment and looking at the man in the corner. “Well then, let’s not beat around the bush. You, Mr. Quin, have committed treason and conspired against the England, and the Crown. Now, we both know how this goes, and we both know what’s going to happen.” She paused a moment, smoothing out her skirt. “I’d like to offer you a job, Mr. Quin, here at MI6. Our current head of Q-branch has obviously become subpar, and we are in need of a replacement.”

This time, it wasn’t a smirk. It was a full out grin that brightened up his face, and looked partially smug, and definitely fienish. “Why M, I think I may have to take you up on that offer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is, admittedly, not my best. I'm sorry. But I promise the next one is a lot, lot better :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we begin to tie into the movie. I know I touched a bit of the movie in the end of last chapter, but this is where it actually starts tying in.

This was hell. Bond was sure that M had chosen this place just to irk him. Even though it wasn’t even remotely her fault that the damn thiefs had chosen Istanbul. Somehow it was all her fault, James just knew it. Because it was always M’s fault as far as he was concerned.

He normally loved places like this, so vibrant and thrumming with people and life. But he hated it. The sweltering heat was not made for suit wearing, but he was stubborn to a fault, and despite the fact that he was sweating like a pig, he looked good while he was doing it.

The city was also terrible on his sensitive Alpha sense of smell. The scents of thousands of people seemed to pool, creating an almost tangible haze in the air that muddled everything, making focusing rather difficult. James had always hated feeling out of control of his body. Even when drunk he retained a certain level of control of himself. But to be robbed of his sense of smell, he felt like he’d lost an arm. An agent was taught to utilize everything they were given, and James was rather fond of his heightened sense of smell, even coming to rely on it. It had gotten him out of more than one tight pinch, and he hated that this time he wouldn’t have that safeguard to rely on.

His blue eyes flashed over the crowd behind the paper he was pretending to read, his sunglasses blocking them from anyone who looked his way. So many people, Alpha, Omega, and Beta alike. They would think he was simply reading, oblivious to the swarms of people pushing past. But it was so far from the truth. Bond was hyperaware of everything going on around him. He always was when he was on a mission. And he was even more so now that he’d been robbed a key sense.

None of the faces, though, were the mark’s, and James was growing frustrated. He was not a patient being by nature, and it was always worse when he was on a mission. The adrenaline that seemed to course through him in a steady stream made him itch with the need for action. He’d never liked intel missions for that exact reason, needing something to feed his need for violence and gore and destruction. He could do them, but he tried to avoid them like the plague. He could blame it on him being an Alpha. They were made for action, for violence and protection. They made excellent field agents, so long as they weren’t expected to sit still. That was the Betas’ field of expertise. Their tireless patience was unnerving sometimes. James had no idea how one could remain so composed hour after hour of staring at a building on the off chance that the target could walk out of the building.

Now, however, he was stuck in this Hell without even a scotch or a nice woman to curb his urges. He hadn’t had a good fuck in much too long. No, it was watching, always watching. Wary and on edge, just searching and scouring for this face in a sea of people. It was frustrating and infuriating and James just wanted to tear his hair out with the impatience. The second day had been absolutely dreadful, and he’d actually started growling at every person that passed that dared to not be his target, and dared to deny him the action that his Alpha blood so needed. Just give him someone to chase, give him a target to shoot at already. He was going to die from this inactivity, and then he would be no use to any of them.

There was a voice in his ear that he recognized, and then it wasn’t just in his earpiece, but right next to him. He looked up and met the warm brown eyes of one agent Eve. Her Alpha scent washed over him a moment later, and he cursed this damn city for masking her long enough that she had been able to sneak up on him. If she had been an enemy, he could have been dead by now. Then again, how was that any different from any other day on this bloody job.

She had a smirk on her lips as she raised her glass of ice water to sip at it, her legs crossed as she watched him carefully, not even looking at the crowd of people passing by. James saw the want in her eyes, and the part of his mind that was going particularly insane with the pent up energy begged him to respond to her silent request. She pulled away from the glass, smacking her lips in what she must have thought was seductive, but did nothing for Bond. He’d had his share of beautiful women—Alphas, Betas, and Omegas alike— and seen many things that had gotten him anywhere from intrigued to rock hard in an instant. This was such a common move that he didn’t even feel the slightest bit of interest. But just for her sake, he smirked, winking and giving her Sexy Face #12. It had just enough seduction and dismissal in it that he saw her visibly deflate and re-cross her legs, her lips turning down into a frown as she looked away hurriedly.

“Anything yet?” she asked, not looking at him and he could have laughed at the tone of hurt in her tone. Did she really want his cock that badly? Because he could oblige her… after the mission. He normally wouldn’t have let the ongoing mission interfere with his sex drive, but he knew the grave nature of this one, and knew that this was one of the few that M would not tolerate divulgences during. If she still wanted him by the end of it, perhaps he’d give her the fuck she seemed to be starving for.

He chuckled all the same, looking out at the crowd again. “Don’t be like that, Eve. We’re working.”

“As if you’ve let that stop you before,” she bit back, and James found himself marveling at the way women overreacted to everything. Honestly, their emotional rollercoaster was exhausting. If he didn’t enjoy the feel of a warm, wet pussy surrounding him or the feel of toned, feminine legs wrapped around his back, he wouldn’t bother with them.

Then again, he enjoyed the feel of a any hot, tight hole around him, and legs urging him deeper, no matter which gender those legs or hole belonged to.

“The stakes were not generally this high,” he quipped back, stubbornly pushing the image of Vesper from his mind. That was long and forgotten. She was just… she had been a mistake, a choice he should have not made. The Omega minx had seduced him, making him feel needed, and then stabbed him in the back. Now that he could reflect on his decisions objectively, James realized that what he’d felt for the woman might not have been love at all, but an instinctual Alpha urge to have a mate who needed him, who needed him to protect them. But Vesper had been using him. She’d twisted him around her little finger and bent him to her will. Sure, he regretted his decisions of course. She’d almost pulled him away from his beloved England. But he figured he’d needed to relearn that lesson eventually. Love was for children, and he couldn’t afford to waste any more of his time with such fickle things.

That sobered her up, and James would have smirked at the suddenly serious look on her face, had he himself not snapped to attention as well. There had been a flash of the target’s face. He didn’t look at Eve as he got up, taking off after the man. This was another reason he hated this city. There were so many people who just seemed content in getting completely in his way. They slowed him down, and he pushed viciously forward, knocking a few of them over and not bothering to apologize. If they’d had any sense, they would have moved from his path. He almost knocked an Omega woman over, and he heard her mate snarl and try to launch himself at James, but he got trapped by the encroaching crowd as James kept moving forward.

He was tempted to just pull out his Walter and shoot a few rounds off to get everyone to move out of his way, but that would likely just impede him even more as people panicked. When people panicked, they tended to go exactly where they shouldn’t go. It was an irksome thing he’d learned over the years, and as much as he hated it, it didn’t seem to change over the years.

His Quartermaster’s voice rang in his ear, breathy and snuffling, and James felt rather furious with the  useless man. Honestly, when was M going to get around to replacing him? He was about as useful as a sack of potatoes. At this point, James was starting to think that a bumbling intern would be more helpful than the head of Q branch. He ignored the man’s shouts, tuning him out with ease as he cut into an alley. He knew where his target was heading, and planned to cut him off at the end point.

But he encountered a bit of interference in the form of several men trying to blow his head off with semi-automatics, and that delay cost him greatly. James burst into the stuffy Instanbullian hotel that the agents had been using as makeshift headquarters, his gun raised and poised for attack. He scoped the rooms as he made his way upstairs, looking for any sign of life. There didn’t seem to be any. Damn it all. Those few minutes it had taken to take the other men out had cost him big time. Bursting upstairs into the room, James’ eyes immediately fell upon the Beta agent he’d worked with on more than one occasion. And then to the left, another lay in the bathroom, dead, his body cooling in the puddle of his own blood. He turned on his heel, unable to stop and feel the slight pang of remorse for the poor man. That would come later, when he wasn’t so focused on the objective. He looked to his right, and there was another agent he knew well, an Omega sitting in an armchair by the table, clutching the bullet wound in his chest to try and stop the bleeding. His skin had an unhealthy pallor, and James could tell the man was bleeding much too quickly, and much too much. He came over, scouting the area and tucking his gun away. Turning, he briefed M on what he saw, “-is dead. And his medical evac.”

A static rough version of M’s voice trailed in over the radio, rather urgent. “Where is it? Is it there?”

He didn’t need telling just what she was talking about. The hard drive, the one that he’d been assigned to protect. Or assigned to protect the people handling it. Specifically Ronson. However, he’d also been told to trace the man trying to steal the thing, and been pulled away from the hotel to scour the never ending crowds for the man’s face. Damn it all.

James looked down at the computer, noting that it was rather torn apart. He frowned, seeing a massive hunk missing. The hard drive. “Hard drive’s gone,” he reported, tucking his gun away as he turned around to survey the room again.

“Are you sure?”

James wasn’t that tech savvy. He knew the basics on how to work a computer for things like email and such, and Q branch had talked him through stealing files often enough that he could do that. But all the tech talk, he couldn’t tell you what any of it meant. And he most certainly could not name every part of a disassembled computer as he could a disassembled gun. So just to be sure, he bent down, lifting the remaining bulk of wires and metal up, looking underneath it as if the hard drive were simply hiding beneath it. “It’s gone.” Since it had no other purpose, he tossed the thing aside. No one would need this now. It was just another hunk of useless metal. His eyes fell upon Ronson, the man he’d been charged to protect, and he felt a wave of guilt as he took in the worsening complexion of the Omega man. He was one of the few Omegas Bond had worked with, most preferring to stay far away from the Alpha agents. But Ronson had been sharp, and he’d thrown himself out there, despite what everyone said about him for being what he was. He felt terrible, knowing that he’d supposed to be there, and that if he had been, perhaps all this wouldn’t have gone to hell. “Give me a minute,” he said after a minute of debate. He could do this much for the man he’d failed.

M’s voice came back into his ear, sharp as it always was when a mission was going south and she was about to have an aneurism from the stress. “They must have it. Get after them.”

He grabbed a towel from the table nearby, snapping it open and pressing it to the bleeding wound, his eyes meeting Ronson’s. There was no blame there in those eyes, and perhaps that made him feel all the worse. The man had trusted him to protect him, and he’d failed. Damn it all, why couldn’t he just be where he was supposed to be? “I’m stabilizing Ronson,” he said defiantly, feeling like he had to do this for the man after how royally he’d failed him.

“We don’t have the time!” M practically screeched.

Grinding his teeth, James wanted nothing more to scream at M that if he didn’t do this, Ronson would die. They both knew it. He was bleeding too profusely. Even with Bond here, he would likely die. But if he left, any chance would disappear. They both knew it, and M knew it, he was sure. They’d been at this job too long for her not to know it. “I have to stop the bleeding.” It was a bit redundant to say aloud, but he felt he had to. He watched Ronson’s face carefully, seeing something tight in those eyes as the man looked at him. His Alpha screamed to protect the Omega, and he bit back the instinctive need, just grabbing the man’s hand and pulling it to help him add pressure to the wound.

“Leave him.”

Had he not been doing this so long, he would have been shocked by how cold M had sounded giving that order. They all knew Ronson was going to die, but M didn’t seem to care whatsoever. James grit his teeth, again thinking that the head of MI6 had been out of the field much too long to be so frugal with her agents’ lives. But then again, maybe she wasn’t. There was a job to do, and he realized that his Alpha nature was distracting him from it.

Ronson’s eyes peered into his, and James felt a twist as he saw understanding in those eyes. And resignation. Ronson knew he was going to die, and he’d made his peace with that fact. But James hadn’t. He grit his teeth obstinately, wanting to tell M where to shove it. But there was this look in Ronson’s eyes that made him stop, the words dying on his tongue. It was a scathing look, and he felt like he was a young boy receiving a hiding once more.

You can’t, Bond. Go.

I can’t just leave you, Ronson.

Yes you can, and you must.

But it’s my fault this happened to you! I can save you if I stay!

No you can’t. I’m going to die, Bond. We all know it. So just leave me, and let me die with my dignity. Let me go down a soldier.

But I could save you.

And if you stay, who’s going to save England. She always comes first, Bond. And she needs you now. So go. Go and let me die a warrior’s death for my country.

James nodded, just barely, but it was enough. The strain on Ronson’s face bled out, and he let out a small sigh. Bond rested his hand on the other’s for a moment longer, a silent goodbye to his brother in arms, and then he stood up, looking back at his fallen comrade before he turned and left, giving Ronson the honorable death he had wished for. Because in their line of work, that was the most any of them could ask for.

James walked back into the blaring sunlight outside, squinting for a moment as he heard the familiar sound of an engine, and then Eve was pulling up. He slipped inside easily, closing the door and they were off in an instant. “Have you got him?” he asked, immediately back on track, Ronson pushed to the back of his mind for later. He could honor his memory later. Right now he would do the man this one thing, and make sure his death  was not in vain.

“He’s in the black Audie,” Eve shouted, and James wanted to tell her she didn’t have to talk so loud, he was sitting right here. But she was running high on adrenaline, and wasn’t as attuned to it as himself, so he let it go. “What about Ronson?”

James hid the internal wince that threatened to become physical. “He’s been hit.”

The earpiece came back in a burst of static, and this time it was Tanner in his ear, not M. “We’re sending in an emergency evacuation squad.” But James knew from the man’s tone that he knew as well as the rest of them that Ronson was going to die today.

“They’ll be too bloody late!” he couldn’t stop from screaming, the man’s resigned eyes haunting his mind. Would his eyes look like that when he died finally? He hoped not.

He knew this wasn’t meant for him to hear, but he did all the same. “Medical evac for Ronson’s five minutes away.” Five minutes. It was going to be too late. Ronson was going to die. That knowledge hung over him like a cloud. Ronson was going to die, and it was James’ fault. He wouldn’t normally get so emotionally involved in a coworker dying, but this was ROnson. He’d known the man, liked him even. And he was an Omega. He wasn’t meant to die like that. He was meant to die of old age, surrounded by his mate and his many children, happy and content. It hurt to know that the man would never have that happiness. The world they lived in didn’t allow that sort of thing for people like them.

He was snapped out of his thoughts as Eve crashed into something, the side mirror getting ripped off. He tried for a smile and a joke to hide how much the agent’s death was tearing him up inside. “That’s alright. Weren’t using it.”

And either the woman knew what he was trying to do and decided to play along, or she was just a fucking bitch, because she swerved to the side, taking off the other mirror. James felt furious that she would do something like that, while the daredevil Alpha in him was silently approving of her. “Wasn’t using that one either,” she said cheekily, and  he couldn’t help but smirk.

It was just another chase on another damn mission. How many of these had he been in? Too many, he thought ruefully. So many chases, so many explosions, so many kills. It had become as natural as breathing. And just how messed up was that? He didn’t even hesitate to grab the wheel from Eve when she showed just how terrible she was at maneuvering the damn car, and he slammed the Audie, making it flip. There was no sympathetic tug at his guts as it crashed into stalls, taking out people’s produce. And just how terrible was that? He’d just successfully ruined more than ten people’s livelihoods in one action, and he didn’t even feel a bit remorseful. He had always brushed it off, saying that it was necessary for Queen and Country. But…

He knew the gunfire was coming before anyone pulled the trigger. “Keep your head down!” he shouted at the idiotic woman, taking pride in how the Alpha female followed his order without a word, ducking into the car as he dived out. What followed was so normal that James didn’t even properly remember it. It was just a blur of adrenaline, gunfire, and screams from innocents.

The target got on a motor bike, and took off. Looking around, James saw one and hopped on, taking off after him. What followed was just another chase. He followed him over rooftops, crashing through a window, and drove through the Great Bazaar, as Tanner so kindly informed him—well, informed Eve, and him as consequence.

“You both know what’s at stake here. We can’t afford to lose that list!” He heard M shout, and he was distinctly sure he’d responded with a crisp:

“Yes Ma’am.”

His mind was too focused on the familiarity of it all. The adrenaline made his blood roar in his ears over the sound of the engine, and everything seemed slower than it really was. No matter how fast he pushed the bike, he felt like he wasn’t moving fast enough. But that was stupid. He was gaining on the man, and the wind was whipping at him violently, so he had to be going fast.

“Take a left. There’s a bridge you can cut him off,” Tanner said, and James made a hard turn in the direction, the bike revving beneath him as the tires screeched and he peeled off toward where the voice in his ear told him to go. Always telling him where to go. He would took comfort in knowing that there was always someone watching him, having his back, if it hadn’t been so terrifying a thought as well. Tanner was a nice guy, interesting to talk to on the few occasions they ran into one another. But he wasn’t someone Bond trusted much, and though he followed the orders blindly, doing as he was trained to do, he wondered how he could so mindlessly put his life in the hands of a man who viewed him as nothing more than 007, as an asset to be used until it broke or became obsolete.

James screeched to a halt, his back tire spinning forward in a quarter circle as he stopped on top of the bridge, seeing Eve do the same in her car. The man had lept from the bridge onto a train beneath them, and James knew what he had to do before the order even came through. He spun around, taking a deep breath before flinging himself and the bike off the edge of the bridge. He jumped off the thing, arms and legs flailing to keep himself stabilized as he fell throught he open air, his commandiered bike flipping end over end before crashing somewhere on the side. James landed on the train, rolling on instinct, and suddenly there wasn’t a floor under his feet. His hand shot out as gravity threatened to take him completely off the edge of the train, and his shoulder snapped up, his arm taunt and his fingers gripping the edge of the rail car for dear life. He looked down, seeing the tracks appearing and disappearing in a blur of motion beneath him and he grimaced. Yeah, he didn’t think he could survive that fall. It hurt, but he was a double-oh for a reason, and he got his other arm up, pulling himself up, and getting shakey legs beneath him once again.

And it was back to action. James saw his target running down the train, and he jumped out in front of a machine, firing off a few shots at the moving man. He spun around, firing off a semi in return, and Jamed pressed himself behind the machine to avoid being turned into swiss cheese.

He was briefly aware that Eve and Tanner were talking over the walkie; he could hear them in the back of his mind. But his entire focus was on the mission, and trying to take the threat out, recover the hard drive, and get it back safely to MI6. Gunfire kept ringing through the air as they took shots at one another, neither of them making contact. This was getting reduntant, and he needed results fast. He took another breath, catching sight of the machine he was hiding behind and grinning.

He climbed into the bulldozer, and was glad to see they had conveniently left the key in the ignition. The sound of gunfire went off again, and suddenly there were holes appearing in the metal beside him. And then there was a searing pain in his shoulder, and he spared a moment to react. But then it was back to action. He could get that patched up later. Well... he could patch it up later. He hated the Medical Wing. Hated the smell of the antiseptic, and the sounds of the doctors scolding him for tearing up his body so terribly. Well, sorry. It was either dislocate my shoulder, and crack a couple ribs, or let someone send a god damn biological weapon into London. So sorry I saved you from dying from a flesh eating mutant bacteria.

Turning the thing on, he flipped it around, accidentally knocking a couple VW bugs off the train. Oops.

“What was that?” M asked, and James felt his lips quirk up in a grin.

Judging by the sound of Eve’s voice when she replied “VW beetles…. I think,” she was smiling as well.

James put the thing in gear, smirking internally. Take that you twats who think driving stick won’t ever come in handy in the field. He started the thing forward, crushing the remaining Bugs.

“Bond, he’s uncoupling the cars!” Eve shouted in his ear, and James’ eyes snapped to the target, seeing he was firing bullets at the gear that connected the cars. Shit.

Well, think fast Bond. Think fast. Fuck. He was in a bulldozer.

He didn’t exactly know how to work these things, but he figured that there wasn’t much else that the controller on the panel could be, so he grabbed it, moving it. The claw moved, and James set to work lifting the thing, and hey, he was blocking the targets shots, too. Cool. The claw moved forward and then down, sinking into the top of the train car, and James knew he had to move fast. This makeshift bridge wasn’t going to last long.

And it didn’t. Almost as soon as he jumped onto the remaining train, the thing ripped off, and James only just made it.

“007 are you alright?”

“Just changing carriages.”

“What’s going on? Report.”

“It’s rather hard to explain ma’am. 007’s still in pursuit.”

It was interesting fighting on a moving train. He hadn’t really done it before, and it was a different experience. There were so many restrictions to movement, and a single mistep would have his face painting the ground below. His leg swung out, and he tripped the guy, grabbing hold of his necklace and yanking, using it to strangle him. The man struggled to get out of his hold, and then James turned, eyes flashing up momentarily and he dropped down to the ground a moment before his body would have collided into the tunnel entrance. Shit, that could have been bad.

Fighting on a moving train in a tunnel was even stranger an experience than before. They were crawling and attacking each other, careful not to let each other get tthe advantage. To hand the other control of the situation would guarantee his face becoming the signature painting of the tunnel roof.

Finally the darkness of the tunnel was over, and James scrambled up to his feet, the target following after. Punches rained down, aiming at his face, and he blocked as many as he could, a couple slipping past his guard as he landed his own hits on the man.

“I may have a shot... It’s not clean. Repeat, I do not have a clean shot.”

The momentary distraction from Eve’s voice in his ear once more gave the attacker an advantage, and James felt a forearm wrap around his neck, holding tight. He struggled, aware that the voices in his ear were arguing over something, but he was too busy fighting to get out of the choke hold and get down, to give Eve a clear shot, that he didn’t hear what they were saying until suddenly there was a familiar shout in his ear. He’s often been the one being ordered to do just what this voice was telling Eve to do. But it struck rather painfully as M’s voice rang out loud and clear in his ear:

”Take the bloody shot!”

There was a burst of pain behind his eyes as the bullet embedded itself in his shoulder, and he jerked back by the force of it, getting thrown off the train. It was several moments of freefall, and he hit the icy water beneath him, his body locking up on the sudden assault on all his nerve endings. He was bleeding, he knew he was. That had been a close shot. And everything was getting fuzzy. He was going to pass out.

Right before the world blacked out, he heard in his ear, a soft, staticy voice.

“Agent down.”

**And then everything was blissfully silent.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this chapter up rather quickly, mostly because I had most of it written from when I was trapped on a plane for 6 hours. I hope you enjoy, but don't expect such a quick update next time.  
> Comments show me how much you love me! And I always reply to them!!!


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